Other world
by Pilotofmymind
Summary: And in all of this time I've watched as you walked away. Sequel/prequel to Goodbye Horses. AU!Dan over the years. Song-fic  Fresh Feeling by The Eels


_**You don't have a clue**_

_**What it is like to be next to you**_

_**1967, September 21st**_

"I don't even know what to say to you." Walter's voice is soft, and perfectly clear. Nite Owl realizes belatedly that the other man must have removed his mask by now. "You're out of control, Daniel." he sounds worried, and Nite Owl remains silent, "You almost _killed_ that man!" Walter says, obviously exasperated. Nite Owl wants to feel bad, he really does (_but he doesn't_), but all he can do is look into the face of his reflection, look deep into Nite Owl's eyes, and remain silent (_Hollis would never smile wide, and offer him a beer again_).

Silence.

Walter must be ready to give up, because it's been several minutes and he still isn't talking again. "I don't know you." Walter sounds surprised, and Nite Owl turns slowly, slowly (_menacingly_), and just stares at the other man. And silently wishes he would put the mask back on. Become Rorschach again. Let them finish patrol. "Say something!" Walter begs, and Nite Owl blinks;

"I know." he finally says, and Walters eyes widen, and he's caught completely off guard, because he honestly thinks he knows Daniel (_and maybe he does. But he doesn't know Nite Owl._). "You never have."

Walter's eyes glaze over and Nite Owl (_he never seems to be just _Daniel _anymore_) just looks at him. His expression is blank, and Walter doesn't like it. Doesn't like the way he acts as if they aren't (_weren't_) friends. It's been a year, and Daniel (Nite Owl?) acts as if it just happened that morning. He hasn't found the killers yet, and Walter wonders if he should be glad? "Obviously." he hisses as he pulls his mask back on, and Nite Owl smirks, and Walter wants to _punch_ him. But he simply walks to the hatch, and looks back at Daniel (Nite Owl?) over his shoulder and sighs, "Go home, Nite Owl." he leaps out before Nite Owl can stop him.

Nite Owl walks to the hatch casually, and peers down into the darkness that seems to have enveloped the city, and he wonders how Rorschach survives the self abuse he inflicts upon himself. "Good night, Rorschach." he whispers into the darkness, and he tries not to feel bad (_but when it comes to Rorschach/Walter he almost always does._).

_**I'm here to tell you**_

_**That it is good**_

_**That it is true**_

_**1967, September 22nd**_

He doesn't go home, and he knows that Walter would be mad if he knew. But Nite Owl still has work to do. Because there have been strange, strange rumors coming out of the gutters lately, and he's interested in finding out if they're true. He sleeps in Archie when the sun comes up (and it was only when the first rays of sun had peeked over the buildings that he'd turned in.), but as soon as the sun has set and he's had half a pot of coffee, he goes back to the city. Walter is probably at the Owls Nest right now, confused and wondering where Daniel is (_dead. Nite Owl's mind provides._). It's half past two by the time someone gives him some useful information, and he should feel bad for breaking the mans arm anyway (_he knows he should_), but he doesn't.

He finds the scumbag he was looking for standing in an alley, smoking a cigarette, and looking at the moon. Obviously waiting for someone (_he's a drug dealing piece of scum. He needs to be punished_.). And Nite Owl knows that the police would do the same thing if they'd found this guy, because Hollis had been a cop. And justice was best served with your fists.

This particular piece of trash didn't deserve the comforts of a comfy jail-cell.

"Hello." Nite Owl tries to sound casual, but it comes out laced with hate, and anger. The man whips around to face him, surprised by his sudden appearance. And Nite Owl sees the fear in his eyes, even though he's trying to act casual, as he shrugs and waves slightly, relaxing back against the wall.

"I didn't do nothin' man." he says as he takes a long drag from his cigarette, "Leave me alone, birdman." he murmurs, and Nite Owl clenches his fists, hard.

"Didn't do anything wrong? _Ever?_" He practically spits the last word out, but when the other man turns his head lazily to look at Nite Owl, and just quirks an eyebrow as if he doesn't understand the other mans anger, as if he doesn't think he's committed a crime (_as if he didn't know who Hollis was_).

"I under arrest, or sumthin'?" his speech is slightly slurred, but Daniel doesn't care. Doesn't care that he's drunk, doesn't care that he's basically just a kid

Nite Owl remains silent, a dark rage burning up inside of him, breaking him apart, and he feels himself shaking (_and for some reason, he wonders where Rorschach is_). He raises his hand slowly, to point at the boy in front of him, he wants to tell him that he's going to die today, wants to tell him that he's not going to get to rest comfortably, but what comes out is; "Hollis would have spared you. But then, he was always a better Nite Owl then me."

The boy looks confused, and a little angry, but he doesn't seem to understand. So he chooses to ignore Nite Owl, and puffs on his cigarette as he turns away. Flicking the cigarette toward Nite Owl, he mutters, "Leave me alone, man."

Nite Owl growls deep in his throat, and slaps the cigarette out of the air, before launching himself forward, and grabbing the other man by the front of the shirt and jerking him forward, "Fuck you!" he screams, surprising himself when he hears just how vehemently he's said it. "You're going to burn for what you've done!"

He's so angry, so full of hate. So blinded (_And Justice has never seemed so lost, so far away, so silent, as she does tonight..._). It only takes one punch to the mouth to silence the boy. And it feels so good to punch him that Nite Owl punches him again. And again.

He's never killed anyone before, but as the body falls limply to the ground, he finds himself straddling the man, and he's still punching him. And punching. And he just can't stop. It feels so good, so right. So... _righteous._

_**Birds singing a song**_

_**Old paint is peeling**_

_**1967, September 23rd **_

In the morning the police discover the mutilated body of Jared Pellini in an alley. He has Hollis Mason's Nite Owl zippo in his pocket. No one puts any effort into the case (it's never solved).

"Daniel?" Walter's voice is laced with worry as he steps into the kitchen. Nite Owl's costume was in the case downstairs, and Archie was there. So Walter assumed Daniel was home. He'd heard on the news that Hollis' murder had been solved, that they'd finally caught the guy, and he wondered if Daniel knew (_if he was responsible for the boys murder._), but he couldn't find him. And he was scared of going upstairs, scared of what he might (_not_) find up there.

"Walter?" Daniels voice floats softly down the stairs, and Walter feels such an immense relief flooding him, that his knees nearly buckle under his weight, and he has to put his hand on the table to keep himself upright (_Daniel sounds so cheery. And he knows everything is going to be alright now._)

Daniel jogs down the stairs, as Walter slips into a chair up to the table, pulling the mask up around his nose, so that he can breathe easier. Daniel looks different. It isn't a good different, either. Walter observes him carefully as he flicks the light on and moves to start coffee. "Didn't expect you so early. I just got out of the shower." Daniel says as he smiles back over his shoulder at the other man, and something in his smile doesn't seem quite right (_it doesn't look like Daniel's smile he's come to know so well._)

"I just came to check on you." Walter says slowly as he rises to his feet, "I was on my way to work when I heard the news." his tone of voice implies that he knows something Daniel doesn't. That he sees whatever Daniel is trying to hide and doesn't approve of it.

Daniel doesn't miss a beat, he simply turns to face his partner, quirking an eyebrow slightly, "What news?" he asks slowly, trying not to sound too eager.

"They found Jared Pellini today." Walter's voice is calm, and as he slips his hands into his pockets, and practically glowers at Daniel, he honestly seems to be more of Rorschach then Walter.

"...Who?" Daniel tries his hardest to sound utterly confused (_and succeeds_).

"The man that killed Hollis." Daniel remains silent, and Walter doesn't miss the strange quirk of the lips. It's almost a smirk, almost a smile. But not quite. He doesn't miss the way Daniel's eyes light up, like a child that's just been given a cookie (_a child that's being rewarded for good, when he knows he's done bad._). The silence is killing Walter. He finally inhales sharply and asks the question he can't keep inside any longer; "Did you kill him?"

Daniels expression darkens, and he folds his arms over his chest slowly (_defensively_), and just _looks_ at Walter. Obviously annoyed. Daniel lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head slightly, "God man, don't you _know_ me?"

Walter just stares at him for a few moments, before reaching up and jerking the mask back down over the lower half of his face. "I thought I did." he murmurs before slipping out the door that leads to the basement. The sound of the door slamming shut behind Walter is loud, and heavy in the still, and silent kitchen. But all Daniel can do is grin.

And grin.

_**This is that fresh**_

_**That fresh feeling**_

_**1968, December 31st **_

He's been complaining all night, he realizes that. He also realizes that he should just shut his mouth, if only for ten minutes, so that Walter can say something. But he just can't stop himself from speaking. He just can't stop the negativity from spewing out of his mouth. He can't control himself.

"Calm down, Nite Owl." Walter says softly, as he looks out at the city below them, "Just let go of the bad, and try to hold onto some of the good." Walter looks up at him, and Daniel wishes that he could see the other mans expression.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Daniel snorts derisively as he places his hands on his hips, and looks toward the city, obviously disgusted.

"Hurm." Walter falls silent, obviously considering the question, yet still remaining silent. Rather then attempting to answer, and making himself look foolish Walter slowly followed Daniel's gaze. A new blanket of snow was just beginning to fall (_so pure, and lovely. It stood out contrastingly when compared to the filth below_).

It would be a lovely morning if Walter didn't need to be at work in four hours. With the possibility of only getting three hours of sleep, he felt his body sag, and considered calling into work sick. But he knew he wouldn't, knew he couldn't (_and it was a good thing he'd taken so many of Daniel's sugarcubes earlier._) "You know... I'm free on New years, if you wanna do something." Walters voice sounded weak to his own ears, and he felt his face burning. And immediately regretted saying it. What a foolish thing to say. What was he trying to get Daniel to say? (_You wanna go out?_), he was being just plain ridiculous! Walter decided to cover the comment with a joke, and Daniel apparently hadn't seen the inappropriateness in the comment, for he said at the same time;

"Patrol."

They turned toward each other, surprised and began to laugh, and it was so nice to see Daniel laughing again, enjoying himself, that Walter didn't even feel cold anymore. Daniel's laugh had warmed him all throughout his body, and he suddenly felt lighter then air. And without realizing he was doing it, or why he was doing it, Walter pushed his mask up, and shifted a little closer.

Daniel sighed heavily as he looked down at the city, sneering, he muttered, "This is going to be a shitty year." he was surprised, when he turned back toward Walter, opening his mouth to complain more, to have Walters lips covering his own. The kiss was brief, and a little clumsy, but a warmth he'd never felt before had bloomed inside of him, and he never wanted a kiss not to end so badly before (_and he hadn't even noticed that Walter'd pulled his mask up_). But Walter abruptly pulled back, whispering softly; 'Excuse me.'. And had rushed to get off of the roof before Daniel could stop him.

Daniel just grinned as he turned slowly, to gaze up into the sky, and thought; _"It's going to be a good year for us."_

_**Words can't be that strong**_

_**My heart is reeling**_

_**1970, January 1**_

Daniel can't remember if this is the second, or third beer he's had (hell, it could even be the forth), but then again, he doesn't really care, it's a New Years party, after all. Rorschach, however, seems agitated with him, but he doesn't mind. Rorschach is never in a good mood anymore. He's stumbling he realizes, belatedly. And that must mean that the punch had some sort of Alcohol in it. And there's no doubt in his mind that Rorschach wants to patrol when they're done here. But all he'd like to do is rip that coat off of the man, and make him scream.

That seems to sound like a great idea to Daniel, because he finds himself stumbling past Ozymandias and Silk Spectre to latch onto Rorschach, and everyone is looking at them, and Rorschach (Walter?) is saying as much, but Daniel can't bring himself to care. It's New Years, and he wants his New Years Kiss (_it's been a year since the night Walter kissed him in the snow._).

He's swaying on his feet slightly, his weight bearing down on Walter, but the other man remains silent. And Daniel leans down to him, close to him, and he's glad someone brought green glass bottles of coke, because Rorschach is drinking one. And his mask is up. And Daniel can kiss him. And as he leans forward Rorschach shakes his head slightly, turning his face away and holding a hand up passively to stave Daniel off.

Daniel is shocked. Utterly horrified. Totally embarrassed. And deeply hurt.

Rorschach slips out from underneath his arm, and slips away, leaving Daniel to stand there dumb founded, under the mistletoe no one has taken down yet (and suddenly the club house seems silent.). Daniel chooses then to leave. He passes out in Archie some where above the city, and drifts slowly through the night, until he wakes up the nest afternoon with a pounding headache, and heads home with a rage inside he hasn't felt in three years. And it's all directed at Walter.

_**This is that fresh**_

_**That fresh feeling**_

_**1974 December, 8**_

Daniel was mad. Mad at the government. Mad at the people of the city. Mad at the criminals. Mad. Just mad. He was drinking- again. And all he could do was look at the wall. Chanukah. What a joke. Chanukah didn't mean anything when you were alone (_but hasn't he always been alone?_)

Daniel took a slow sip of his beer, and thought of Rorschach and Nite Owl. He hadn't seen Walter, or Rorschach in almost a month, and it was beginning to feel... wrong. Daniel sighed as he dropped his gaze to a magazine on the table in front of himself, taking a swig of the beer in his hand he was a little surprised (and annoyed) when there was a sharp knock on the door. Rising from the couch slowly he walked to the door and opened it roughly, peering out he was surprised to see Walter standing there.

He was grinning, and there was a happiness in his eyes Daniel hadn't seen in a _long_ time. Daniel just looked at him for a moment before waving him in and moving to stand by the arm of the couch. Walter came in and closed the door, but what he asked Daniel surprised him;

"Why don't you have a Menorah out?"

Daniel shrugged slightly and sat on the arm of his couch eying Walter, wondering why he'd chosen such a strange day to show up, and with such a strange question on his lips. "What are you doing here, Walter?"

"...Oh." Walter hesitantly looked at the gift he was holding, before looking back up at Daniel, smiling softly, "I came to celebrate a few things with you."

"Like what?" Daniel asked as he picked his beer up from the coffee table and took a sip of it.

"Chanukah. And... I passed the bar. I, I'm a lawyer now, Daniel!" He'd seemed so proud, seemed like he wanted something, perhaps he'd wanted to be congratulated, and on another time Daniel might have felt like it, but he'd had a few beers.

Walter was Catholic.

And Daniel was still bitter.

"You don't have to do this shit any more, damnit!" Daniel said, as he threw the beer bottle at Walter, he'd thrown it hard, and he was a little surprised to see it curve as it neared Walter. As it hit the wall bursting, Daniel saw something strange in Walters eyes, and the explosion of the beer bottle sent shards up into the air, with a spray of amber. There was a car driving past, and it lit the liquor, and glass shards up as they splashed through the air behind Walter. It glowed golden, and Walters ginger hair looked like a halo.

The words were out before Daniel realized he was saying them, "I don't care about you! Don't you realize that? Get out! Just leave me alone!" Walters eyes showed the hurt his expression clouded over to hide. And Daniel didn't understand why everything seemed to have frozen in that instant. The glass and beer hit the floor, and Walter turned away, placing a small box on the table beside the couch, and Daniel's last words echoed in his own ears long after Walter had gone.

"I hate you."

He knew Walter was hurting, because as he saw him walking past the front window, and he was sure he'd seen tears in the mans eyes, which were illuminated by another passing car. Daniel sat on the couch crying for over an hour, unable to control the sobs that shook his frame, nor able to make the tears stop, no matter how many times he told himself he was weak.

It took a six pack for him to work up the courage to open the box Walter had left, it was just a folded piece of paper, with the words 'What do you get for the man who has everything?' written on it in Walters chicken scratch handwriting. When he unfolded it, to see 'Would my love be enough?' written inside he'd immediately started to cry again.

He'd patrolled that night.

That was a stab wound he'd never forget.

He'd almost died.

The Comedian still claims he owes him one.

And maybe he does.

_**Try**_

_**Try to forget what's in the past**_

_**Tomorrow is here**_

_**1975, January 28**_

Daniel can't control the rage that's bubbling up inside of him. He can't control the words that are climbing up the back of his throat to land on his tongue. Her can't believe this is happening. Can't believe Walter didn't discuss this with him.

Instead he let him wake up to read it in the fucking paper! Daniel wants to kill him. Kill someone. Throwing the paper to the floor he stands up quickly, sending his chair tumbling to the floor, as he walks across the floor to get another cup of coffee. His hands are shaking. And he's angry. So angry.

"I guess you saw." Walters voice is flat. And Daniel just wants to _hit_ him.

"Why." he has to inhale deeply, try and get himself under control, "Are you leaving?" his voice is hard, and he knows he sounds angry, but he can't care. He can't calm down, because it feels as if Walter has _stabbed _him.

"You know as well as I do that we aren't wanted any more, Daniel. Ozymandias and I-"

"You talked to Adrian Fucking Veidt about this? But I don't deserve the same fucking respect?" Daniel yells as he whips around to face Walter. He can see the hardness in the other mans eyes. Nothing he can say will change his mind (_and he can tell that Rorschach has already been dead for a long time. He just didn't know it until now._)

"I'm sorry, Daniel."

"Bullshit."

Walter just stares at him, obviously thinking of something, but the other man just shakes his head and turns toward the door, "...It's over, Daniel. Suggest you take the same path." (_Walter doesn't love him anymore. He probably never has._)

"Fuck you." Daniel hisses vehemently as Walter slams the door shut behind himself. And Daniel feels like he's dying, feels like someone has gripped his heart with an icy fist, and refuses to let go. He lowers himself to the ground slowly, unwilling to let himself collapse. "Fuck you." he repeats with no conviction. He's utterly horrified when he realizes he's crying.

_**Love,**_

_**Orange sky above lighting your way**_

_**There's nothing to fear**_

_**1975, June 21**_

It 's been five months since Rorschachs retirement, and Daniel has a huge case he could really use the other mans help with. But he doesn't try to contact Walter. He doesn't try to get a message to Rorschach. Because to him Rorschach, and Walter Kovacs are useless. Forgotten. And he won't beg. Ever.

He can't seem to find any viable information leading to the little girl, or her kidnapper. But maybe, he thinks, he's just not looking hard enough. Maybe he's just not being rough enough. Maybe he's just too angry.

He's in Archie, following a lead, but he feels strange. He feels... impotent. Sighing heavily he puts Archie on auto-pilot and goes to get some coffee. He stands staring at the sugar container for several moments, before he picks it up and hurtles it across the ship. It hits the back of the passengers seat, and explodes, sugar cubes fly every which way, and Daniel lets out a howl of agony, and sinks to his knees as he tries to understand this.

Understand why someone would ever hurt a little girl just because her parents didn't have any money. He would have paid the ransom for them, he realizes. But the kidnapper hasn't contacted them again. And Daniel can taste failure on the back of his tongue. Climbing to his feet shakily he walks toward his pilots chair, the idea of a nice cup of coffee forgotten, as he comes to hover over a bar. This is probably the fifteenth place he's been to.

Daniel paused to collect himself, pulling his goggles down around his neck he rubbed his eyes, and yawned. This was the second night he'd been looking for this sick bastard, and he hadn't slept during the day. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, couldn't understand why he felt so miserable. Why he felt broken. And yet he knew. Knew it was because Rorschach had _abandoned_ him.

Daniel groaned as he stood up straight and pulled his goggles back up into place. Becoming Nite Owl he hardened his expression before opening the hatch and dropping down onto the roof of the bar. Slipping down the fire escape slowly, silently, he walked to the door casually, as if he were a regular here.

As he raised his hand to push the door open he paused, his mind going back to Hollis' murderer. And he scowled as he slammed the door open, before stepping into the bar quietly. "Hello," he murmured, and the patrons of the bar let out a collective whimper, "You've been very bad boys and girls." Nite Owl hissed as he closed the door behind himself, flipping the sign to say 'Closed'.

Nite Owl was quiet when he reached the building, a dressmaker's shop called Modern Modes. It looked trashy. Disgusting. And Nite Owl could hear activity in the back area, behind the fence. Probably a couple of stray cats. He couldn't believe someone actually lived here. It was disgusting.

He went in through the front door, the lock was easy enough to pick. Closing the door behind himself he flipped through the settings on his goggles, until he could see clearly. And then he began to move through the building, he found a small room that had a stove in it. It smelled smokey, so he crouched by it, slowly opening it he peered inside. Among the charred ashes, he saw the remains of a pair of panties. Little girls panties.

Taking it out with trembling hands, he stood and looked at it. This was wrong. So wrong. Inhaling sharply he walked out of the room, and into another, just off of the end of the hallway. He slowly walked to the cabinet, and slowly placed the small piece of fabric on to counter top, as he looked down at the chopping block, heavily used. He frowned as he opened the doors to the wall cabinets and looked inside. Knives and saws. Interesting.

Slowly taking the knives out he looked at them for a moment, his gaze was drawn to the window, however, when he noticed some movement. Turning to look at the window he noticed that the dogs were fighting over... a bone. _A little girls femur_. His mind provided.

He didn't notice he was moving until he was standing before the dogs, they looked at him dumbly, and he held a knife in either hand. A cleaver split one dogs skull, the thin knife went in through the top of the second dogs head, and came out through the jaw. Nite Owl had closed his eyes, though he wasn't sure why.

Grice returned about two hours later, which had been time enough for Nite Owl to prepare himself. Sitting on the counter he listened as Grice walked down the hall, muttering like the drunk he was. As soon as the man stumbled into the room Nite Owl leaped from the counter and slammed the door behind the man. "Hello Grice." he said menacingly, and Grice whipped around to face him, obviously frightened.

"Watta ya doin' here?" he demanded as Nite Owl moved closer.

"The ransom was ready, Grice." Nite Owl said quietly as he leaned toward the man, and Grice moved back quickly, trying to get away, but stumbled over some of the trash on the floor and fell. Hard. "I'm disappointed, Grice."

"I dunno what yer talkin' 'bout! I don't got nuthin' ta do with that girl!" Grice bellowed, and Nite Owl had hoped he would say that. Grabbing a chain that was sitting on the counter Nite Owl moved forward slowly, and as the shadows covered him, Grice opened his eyes wide in terror. A small beam of light caught the lenses of Nite Owl's goggles, giving him a perfect look of a bird of prey.

"I hope you've said your prayers." Nite Owl murmured as he raised the chain, it came down hard. Making a sickening 'thawk' sound as it hit Grice across the face, snapping the cartilage in his nose. Grice screamed in pain, and immediately began to beg, Nite Owl lunged forward, grasping Grice by the front of the shirt and lifting him from the floor, he leaned close to hiss; "Did Blair Roche beg?"

Grice is crying, and Nite Owl can see the blood running from his broken nose, and he just smiles as the other man begins to beg. Leaning down he grabs the man by the collar of the shirt and drags him to the table, all but throwing him against the leg of the table Nite Owl whips the chain around the man, and the table legs, and grabs the padlock from the table, yanking the chain tight, satisfied when he hears a grunt of pain, he slips the padlock through the links of the chain and clicks it into place. "P-please." Grice whimpers looking up at him, tears running down his grimy cheeks, "I-I can't breathe."

"Well," Nite Owl says as he delicately picks a long thin knife up from the counter, "...neither can Blair Roche."

_**Birds singing a song**_

_**Old paint is peeling**_

_**1985, November 1**_

Daniel finds Rorschach (Walter?) standing in his kitchen one night, when he returns from a late night food run. Daniel realizes he's being ridiculous, standing in the kitchen door way and just _staring_ at the other man. But he hasn't seen him in _eleven_ years.

"Hello, Daniel." Rorschach says in his gravely tone, and Daniel doesn't respond, just slowly walks into the room and begins to put the groceries away. "Helped myself to some beans. Hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not." Daniel murmurs, instantly thinking that Rorschach hadn't needed his food since the early days of their partnership. "How... how have you been, Rorschach?"

Rorschach had just turned to him slowly, as if the question seemed completely out of place, and remained silent, until Daniel had finally come to sit up to the table and just stared at him (into his eyes), and smiled slowly, "You know... It's good to see you, buddy."

_**This is that fresh**_

_**That fresh feeling**_

_**1985, November 1**_

Nite Owl is momentarily blinded, and he can see only white, there is a low ringing in his ears, and over the ringing he can hear his heart beat. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest, he feels like his ribs are going to be bruised, and he just can't seem to take a breath. He's gasping, he realizes. And as his vision clears he sees Walter standing ten feet ahead of him, and the other man must be feeling the same way because he's peeling his mask off. And Nite Owl barely notices Jon standing up in front of Walter.

But he does notice Jon. As he's trying to speak, to tell Jon to wait, as he's trying to make things better, he sees a slight muscle twitch above Jon's eye, and then the other man sort of smiles. Nite Owl realizes that he's trembling, and as he finally seems to start breathing again, there's a flash of white, and Walter throws his arms back, and screams. The other man is disintegrated, and Nite Owl looses his breath all over again, as he screams _'No!' _until his throat hurts.

Dropping to his knees Nite Owl lets out a small whimper, as he covers his mouth with one hand, reaching out toward the blood spot in the snow with the other, and he doesn't think he can do this. He doesn't think he can go on. And he's never wanted to be someone else so badly before in his entire life. "I'm sorry." he whispers to no one, and nothing.

To everything, and everyone.

_**Words can't be that strong**_

_**My heart is reeling**_

_**This is that fresh**_

_**That fresh feeling**_

_**1985, November 30**_

Adrian had felt a little bad at having Daniel locked up, but honestly it didn't seem to matter. All the man did was stand and look out his window, deep into the night, whisper inaudible words, and sleep. Sometimes Adrian wondered if he even noticed that he _was_ locked up? Still... Adrian felt guilty, somehow.

Daniel stood looking out the plate glass window, in the institute Adrian had sent him to. He wasn't crazy, not really. But Adrian, and these crazy doctors didn't believe him. He was crazy, they said, because he talked to himself.

And he did no such thing.

He talked to Rorschach.

Why couldn't they see that?

Those fools. They were the crazy ones.

"Right, Rorschach?" he murmured as he gazed into the abyss, and the abyss gazed also.

_Right, Nite Owl._

_**Some people are good**_

_**Babe in the 'hood**_

_**So pure and so free**_

_**I'd make a safe bet**_

_**You're gonna get whatever you need**_

A/N; Please. Don't ask.


End file.
